The Hobbit: An Unexpected Responsibility
by poetanddidntknowit34
Summary: Poor Bilbo Baggins has found himself in an adventure of sorts, when he accidentally brings a dragon egg inside his home and let's it hatch upon his mantle. Now, seeing as baby Smaug refuses to leave his new home, Bilbo must take on the responsibilities of a pet dragon. And it's not an easy task! (My final project for my sci-fi and fantasy lit class.)
1. Introduction

Bilbo Baggins was a hobbit, and a very prosperous one at that. He lived behind a perfectly round door, painted as green as an emerald, and the shininess of the gold brass knob was frequently remarked upon by visitors and passersby; hobbits value comfort and take pride in their homes, you see, and Bilbo's hobbit hole under The Hill was something to be praised. His gardens stretched over his land and the bright flowers provided a pleasing sketch of purples, pinks, reds, and blues to any who bothered to look over at The Hill, only to be matched by the vivid hues of his wardrobe, for which several rooms of his hole were dedicated. Hobbit holes aren't untidy, and Bilbo Baggins was very conscious of that, dusting the mantle and shaking the rugs out on a daily basis. Even in winter! Snow is no excuse for dirt in the welcome mat, mind you.

Now this particular hobbit was held in high repute around those parts, because, brave as he was to buy his seed cakes from Mrs Turner (she was a bit more than 'off'), Bilbo Baggins stayed put in the Shire and did not have any adventures outside of cleaning out his sink drain once a month, and that in itself was a very hazardous quest. It is a wonder that Bilbo's adventurous side had managed to stay dormant for such a long period of his life, because his mother had been the famous Belladonna Took. Now, that name may not mean anything to you or to me, but to a hobbit, it meant everything. Rumor had it that somewhere higher up on the Took family tree, someone must have taken a fairy wife. That, dear reader, is absurd, but any hobbit that knew the Took family could attest to the fact that there was something a little queer in their make-up, for every so often, a member of the family would just pick up and go on an adventure! But, maybe that was where Bilbo Baggins of Bag End got his grit and determination to stick with the adventure that he had not chosen, but rather that had rolled directly into his lap...


	2. Chapter 1

The little hobbit town in the Shire didn't house much entertainment outside meal hours, but that was all well and good in Bilbo's mind. He enjoyed his simple, morning routine of breakfast, a bit of tidying up around his house, second breakfast, and a good walk, weather permitting, of course. On the particular morning when our story begins, Bilbo awoke to find the weather absolutely perfect. A slight breeze, a cheerful sun, and several bird songs to add a soundtrack to his pleasant stroll through the hills. He had brought his pipe along with him, and once he'd found an exceptionally shady tree at the base of a hill, he took a seat and began one of his favorite hobbies, blowing smoke rings. His smoke rings could dance over any landscape, or sail to any height; they were the envy of other hobbits around these parts, and that was a point of pride for our little Bilbo. He was just getting perfectly comfortable under his tree, his wooly toes curling into the soft blanket of grass and small wildflowers, when he heard bickering.

"It's mine! I got it, I get to keep it!" A young boy said.

"We should share it! I helped!" A girl protested.

The arguing escalated into the sounds of a small struggle, and suddenly whatever had been the object of their argument bounced over the crest of the hill and rolled right down into Bilbo's lap. The two hobbit children came running after it, stopping short when they saw Bilbo inspecting the curious sphere. "Hello, Mr Baggins." The little boy mumbled.

They were Ranir's children. Bilbo was not the biggest fan of his neighbor, but he didn't mind the children. "Now what are you two doing out here, bickering about a decorative mantle piece?" For that was what he had decided it was.

"Uh, nothing." Turc muttered, dropping his gaze and grabbing his sister's arm. "You can keep it, Mr Baggins."

Then they were gone, running over the hill and going back to their play. "Well that was odd." Bilbo remarked, and turned his attention back to the decoration.

The sphere was of a bright plum color, gold flecks shimmered and swam amongst the purple shades. It was perfectly round, large, and felt quite heavy in his hands. Curious, he rapped on the object. It made a hollow thumping noise against his knuckles, so Bilbo figured the weight must have been coming purely from the shell. After inspecting it for a little while longer, he decided the piece would look perfect on his mantle, and he picked it up to take it home.

His evening routine was similar to his morning one; dinner, a bit of reading, a bedtime snack, and then time for bed. That night, his book was one of a treasure hunt, complete with many maps of the various places the search party had looked (he loved maps), and the fire he had lit in the hearth danced fabulous lights of color across his new decoration. "It is quite pretty up there." He remarked to himself before bed. "I'm glad I came across it today."

That night was filled of dreams about tea and seed cakes and a very yummy turkey dinner, and Bilbo slept well, only turning over once when something crashed in his living room in the middle of the night.

The morning light streaming in past Bilbo's eyelids promised yet another wonderful day, and Bilbo's groggy mind reminded him to wake up and enjoy it. But before he was awake enough to open his eyes, he became very aware that there was a weight on his chest, and something thumping a slow, steady rhythm on his stomach. He momentarily froze, before daring to crack an eyelid, only to wish he hadn't.

Seated upon his chest, it's head cocked to one side in a curious, expecting way, and it's heavy tail beating a happy pattern on his stomach, was a baby red-gold dragon.


	3. Chapter 2

Bilbo jumped out of his skin, and out from under his covers. He scrambled for purchase among the sheets, but only ended up falling backwards off his bed. The unexpected visitor was thrown off his chest, rolled head over tail, and landed with a 'thump' on the wood floor on the opposite side of the bed. It let out a muffled whine before finding its feet and crawling under the bed toward the owner of the house, who was retreating himself into a corner. "No, no, no. Stay back!" Bilbo put a hand out in front of him to keep the dragon at bay. Surprisingly, the dragon stopped advancing. He crouched, wiggling all over, and let out an excited noise, that Bilbo could only describe as a 'yip'.

To say the hobbit was confused would be a bit of an understatement. Bilbo Baggins was flustered, annoyed, and in an unhappy state of bewilderment. Then, it all gave way to terror when he realized that a baby dragon typically meant an angry mama not far away. "Oh no. No, no." It was not the best of days for his vocabulary.

Bilbo launched to his feet and grabbed the dragon by the scruff of his neck. It hung innocently in his hands and tried to lick him across the distance, continuing to shake in an electrified manner and still letting out a succession of 'yip's. Bilbo opened the front door to his Hobbit hole and placed the intruder outside on the mat. "Now, shoo!" And he shut the door again.

Breathing out a sigh of relief, he slumped against the door. "I need something to eat." He mumbled and wiped his brow with a handkerchief that hung by the door. In passing his living room, he noticed that his new decoration was in shards all over the ground. He went to inspect the curious finding, and the conclusion was obvious. He had brought a dragon egg in his home and allowed it to hatch upon his mantle. "Bilbo, you fool." He scolded himself as he swept up the mess on his carpet. "If you aren't more careful, you will find yourself in an adventure one of these days."

When the plum and gold shards were collected, he moved to the kitchen to dispose of them in his dustbin. The broken pieces of shell made a clattering noise as they fell into the wastebasket, and a louder clattering came from his pantry to the left. Bilbo froze. He inched, ever so slow and ever so quiet, to stand in front of the the pantry door, and upon peering in, he saw a baby red-gold dragon tearing at a ham he had managed to dislodge from a high shelf. A package of flour had been displaced as well, revealing tiny paw prints covered the floor, and the scales of Bilbo's pesky house guest were mostly white now as well. Bilbo was dumbfounded. "How did-?" He looked around and saw that the dragon had nudged open one of the windows he had left unlocked.

The dragon was still gnawing on the ham, when he accidentally kicked up a cloud of flour, irritating his nose. The sneeze that was admitted was small, but an expulsion of fire accompanied it, and caught the leg of his pantry shelf in flame. Bilbo let out a surprised squeak and rushed forward to beat at the fire with a rag.

The culprit cowered back, his tiny tail between his legs and what Bilbo thought was an apologetic look in his eye. "Don't even try that on me. You're not staying here." The hobbit picked the dragon up again and set him down out in back this time. "Go on! Git!" He waved his arms in a foolish way and closed the door behind him, making sure all windows were locked.

The rest of the morning was pleasantly dragon-free, and Bilbo was able to enjoy both his breakfasts, and his lunch in peace. In fact, as he dusted and cleaned the flour up, his spirits raised and he was beginning to put the morning's incident (he refused to call it an adventure) out of his mind. Towards the end of the evening, though, he realized his mail had not yet been retrieved for that day. So, grabbing his pipe, he made his way down the path to his mailbox, leaving the door cracked to let a breeze in. He sucked and puffed on his pipe as he shuffled through the letters and greetings in his box, before deciding they were all useless and not worth responding to. He sent a few more smoke rings over The Hill and across the Shire, before returning to his home.

"A good book, and then I believe it's off to bed." He said to himself cheerily. The smile on his face faded, however, when he rounded the corner into his sitting room. The dragon was back, this time curled up sleepily on the carpet in front of the fireplace.

Bilbo couldn't believe his eyes. The thing must've been waiting all day, then slipped in through the cracked door a few moments ago. Without saying a word, he dropped into his arm chair and stared at the pest. Drowsy, reptilian eyes watched him happily, and a very large yawn spread through the dragon's whole body. He was kind of cute, and Bilbo didn't see any other outcome for his situation. "Fine." He mumbled. "You can stay."

The dragon jumped up and bounded into his lap, licking his chin and wiggling in his arms. "What are we going to call you?"

The dragon only curled up in his lap and promptly fell asleep, a thick, black smog curling up from his nostrils and into Bilbo's plane of vision with every exhale. He coughed once and waved the smoke away. "I guess that answers it." He picked the sleeping dragon up, setting him on the ground in front of the fire. "Goodnight, Smaug. I'll deal with you more tomorrow."


	4. Chapter 3

Having a pet dragon is a good idea in theory, but in practice, Bilbo was finding it to be more and more difficult as each day passed. Have you ever nursed a dragon with a head cold before? Well, it is as unpleasant as it sounds, and Bilbo's furniture can attest to that. But despite Bilbo's occasional job as firefighter, and the constant disappearance of the insides of his cupboards, Smaug was proving to be quite a companionable pet.

The little dragon enjoyed following his master through the house, especially out into the garden. Smaug would sit quietly as Bilbo checked on and watered his plants, that is until a patch of mud would catch his gleaming yellow eye, and he would pounce and roll until his scales were caked in quickly drying soil. Dragons are not the biggest fans of water, so cleaning the mess up was always a marvelous effort for the poor little hobbit, who would scold his pet gently, but to no avail. Mud would only find its way back into the garden, and back onto Smaug.

Smaug wasn't all destruction and charred furniture, though I may have led you to think so. A pet dragon has its advantages, too. In winter, Smaug's personal furnace of body heat was always a comforting thing to have sprawled across Bilbo's wooly toes at the end of his bed, or while in front of the fire with a book in his hands. In spring and summer, mosquitos and other pesky bugs would inevitably find their way into the cozy little hobbit hole under The Hill and insist on buzzing around Bilbo and biting him when they could. With a dragon around, his problem was almost solved! Smaug enjoyed himself immensely during these seasons, as he would crouch on the wooden floorboards under the window Bilbo liked to leave open and watch keenly for bugs. As soon as an insect would dare to cross the threshold of his home, the intruder would find themselves incinerated by a tiny, well-aimed hiccup of fire. Smaug was to be the only flying thing in that hobbit hole.

And fly he eventually did. After two years of living in the Shire, the small dragon began to grow, and as he did, he slowly gained more and more control of his wings. If Bilbo didn't watch him close enough while he pounced and played in the garden, a bird would catch the dragon's eye, and he would push off the ground and get himself over the garden wall. That particular lesson had been learned the hard way.

It was such a beautiful spring day out, and Bilbo could tell his scaly friend was getting a bit of cabin fever. Though he couldn't speak yet, Smaug's body language was as readable as the dragon's favorite mirror used to be. Bilbo propped open the back door to let a breeze in and his pet out, and Smaug tore his way around the garden in an excited whirr of activity and energy. Bilbo didn't even yell to him when the dragon face-planted directly into a patch of mud and began to counter act the bath his master had given him not two hours prior. The hobbit only picked up the first dish in a mountain that needed washing and set to work, keeping a close eye on Smaug through the window above the sink and smiling to himself as the goofy lizard set fire to dragonflies and mosquitos sailing on the morning breeze.

A bird flew overhead, and caused the reptilian head to snap upward in careful observation. As Bilbo glanced up from the sink once more, he was just in time to see Smaug give a little wiggle of his backside, then launch himself into the air, sailing expertly up and over the garden wall. "Samug! No!" He dropped the dishes and tore out of his front door. Thankfully, the dragon wasn't grown enough yet to be able to fly more than a few feet, but now that he was free, Smaug wanted to explore. Bilbo could see him running down the path in front of his home, and took off after, all the while calling out to his pet. Smaug was delighted to see that his master wanted to play, too, and his running only picked up speed.

The poor hobbit was huffing and puffing after his dragon, hoping no one would see and think he was prone to have adventures. Smaug made it only a few hobbit holes down, when he caught the aroma of cherry pie through an open front door. Now, you might be thinking that dragons only eat meat, and it is true that Smaug enjoyed ham and the occasional squirrel, but being a domestic dragon, he had also grown accustom to other food, and cherry pie was his favorite. Much to Bilbo's delight, Smaug stopped dead in his tracks, but much to his dismay, the dragon had only paused to change course. He ran full speed at the hobbit hole, tripping clumsily on the welcome mat, and rolling head-over-tail into the hallway.

Bilbo groaned and went to follow, pausing in the doorway, because, as you know, it is rude to enter another hobbit's home without permission. Smaug was now weaving a figure-eight between Erinda's legs, whimpering and trying his best to beg for a piece of the pie the confused lady-hobbit was holding in her oven-mitted hands. "Is this yours, Bilbo?" She smiled at him.

"Uh, yeah." He mumbled. "Sorry about that. He got away from me."

Erinda just laughed and placed the pie in the window sill to cool before pulling her mitts off and bending down to scoop the dragon up into her arms. Smaug licked her face affectionately, then stretched out and played dead in her arms, displaying his stomach to be rubbed. "He's quite the tame dragon, isn't he?" She giggled and rubbed his underbelly vigorously, the 'dead' dragon springing back to life with a purr and an arch into her touch.

"Yeah. I've had him since he hatched, so I guess he hasn't really had any time to be anything else." Bilbo's initial embarrassment was subsiding. He couldn't have wished for a better hobbit to find out he had a dragon. Erinda was a kind woman, with laugh lines around her eyes and an odd, but cozy hole. "His name's Smaug. I'm sorry he got mud all over your entryway. He smelled your pie and decided to investigate. Cherry's his favorite."

"Well, I can cut him a piece when it cools a bit more. Want to bring him over a bit later for tea?" She laughed again as Smaug licked her chin and stared hypnotically at the pie.

"Yeah, we can stop back in later. I need to clean him up anyway. He's always finding a mud patch to roll in amongst my begonias. And I don't know what I'm going to do when he gets big enough to be able to fly more than a few feet." Bilbo took his muddy dragon into his arms. Smaug started to give him a happy look, but the stern one it was met with only caused him to hunker down in his master's hold and try to look sorry.

"I would be more concerned with the roof on your home than flight length when it comes to a pet dragon, Bilbo Baggins." Erinda was teasing, but she had a point.

"I feel compelled to cross that bridge when I come to it." Bilbo didn't have any other answer for her, or for himself. For now, he only excused himself to wash his naughty pet and rummage up a few seed cakes for afternoon tea at Erinda's.

"You can't run off like that, Smaug." He said as he scrubbed the mud off the damp dragon sulking in his sink. "Folks see a dragon and they think of danger. You could get hurt."

Whether or not Smaug could understand him yet, Bilbo would never know. The dragon only leaned his head into the scratching Bilbo had started behind his ear.


	5. Chapter 4

Smaug got bigger and bigger as the year progressed, growing quicker than Bilbo had anticipated. Soon he was about the size of a baby wolf, and his heat and light and smoke were too much to sleep in the master bedroom, so the dragon took up a more permanent residence in a corner in the living room; he liked the fireplace better anyway. And, just as when humans and hobbits grow up, Smaug soon developed a bit of an attitude, and an affinity for shiny objects.

Bilbo had been at the small shop in town, getting a few groceries and as much raw meat as he could afford, when he overheard a few ladies talking amongst themselves.

"I woke up this morning, and my shop had been broken into!"

"Oh dear! Were the windows broken?"

"No, but the door handle had been melted off and several candlesticks from the window display and a few gold goblets were stolen. It's a peculiar case, but I'm sure my husband and I will find the culprit and get our compensation."

"Well, I'm sure that-"

The hobbits were walking out of earshot and Bilbo was fuming amongst the loafs of bread. He quickly finished his shopping (putting the cherry pie ingredients back on the shelf, of course) and his walk home was fairly less pleasant than the journey to the grocer's.

Smaug was curled up on his make-shift bed of blankets and pillows, watching the fire dance in the hearth. When Bilbo shoved his way roughly through the door, his head perked up and the reptilian eyes followed his master carefully as Bilbo brought the shopping into the kitchen. Then, the hobbit came back into the living room and stood in front of his pet.

"Get up. I know you stole from Mrs Gareth last night, now get up and give me the items." Though Smaug could not yet speak (Bilbo read in a book that he wouldn't start until he was around 100 years old), he could definitely understand his master's words. The dragon only flattened himself out further on his blankets, quirking his features into a look that clearly read 'make me'. "You're already not getting pie, now get up."

Smaug undoubtedly knew when he was defeated. When his master threatened his food, he knew the hobbit was serious. Angrily, he crawled off the blankets, and sulked in the corner as Bilbo threw the candlesticks and goblets into a sack. "You can't take things, Smaug." He scolded. "It's not right, and if you do it again, I won't leave the door open for you at night anymore. And so help me, if you melt the door handle, I'll use the spray bottle much more often than usual."

Smaug tried his best to look sorry. He didn't like the idea of a mist of water in his face all the time. "Yeah, you better look sorry. I have to return these and pay for your damages, now." The dragon slinked up to him and buried his face in the hobbit's leg, his way of trying to apologize and, in a silly way, say 'I love you'. Bilbo just patted his head. "It's OK, just behave. And don't give me attitude again." He poked the dragon under chin, causing him to shake his head in slight discomfort. "I swear, it's like I'm raising a child." Bilbo muttered, then went to the kitchen to put his shopping away.

Since Smaug knew he couldn't get away with stealing valuable items from shops or homes, he settled on hoarding things from around the hobbit hole. Bilbo found his whole set of silver utensils under Smaug's blankets one morning, and woke up another day to find his gold plates, used for guests, missing as well (he later found the plates buried in the backyard when he went to plant a new tree in the garden). And each time something went missing, Bilbo scolded Smaug and took a meal away from him, and even then, it took the dragon almost a year of this twisted hide-and-seek to finally learn his lesson.

Though Bilbo had to constantly worry about his naughty pet stealing an item of value from his home, he never gave much thought to outside forces contributing to the dragon's game. That is, until three dwarves broke into his home one night.

The dwarves had been just passing through the Shire, up to no good and wreaking havoc wherever they went. When they reached the hole under The Hill, they decided it was as good as any to pilfer for things to pawn. They did not, however, include a live dragon in their plans. The leader, we shall just call him 'Dwarf 1', picked the lock on the back door, and ushered the other two inside. Dwarf 2 found the pantry quickly, as free food was his favorite part of their unconventional profession, while Dwarf 3 went to work in the kitchen. Dwarf 1 went to scavenge the living room, blissfully unaware that he had woken a sleeping dragon. Smaug was in his cozy corner, completely missed by the dwarf that had walked right past him and into the middle of the room with his back to the dragon that was planning and waiting for an opportunity. Now seemed as good as any.

The red-gold dragon snuck up behind the unwelcome visitor, and prepare to pounce; Smaug was to be the only thief in that hobbit hole. The dwarf flew sideways as Smaug tackled him to the floor and let out a terrible roar into his terrified face. Dwarf 1 yelled in horror, and in another room, the sound of a hobbit waking forcefully and falling out of bed went quite unheard. Smaug considered just killing the intruder, but he knew that murder would be slightly frowned upon by his master, so instead, he let the dwarf scramble up and run out of the room. Dwarves 2 and 3 had come to see what the commotion was about, but they too beat a hasty retreat upon realizing they were being hunted by a dragon. Smaug chased the thieves out into the garden, lifting himself into the air and attaching his claws onto the shoulders of Dwarf 2, and carried him off into the night. Bilbo stood on the doorstep in his dressing gown, throughly confused, and watched as the remaining dwarves scaled the garden wall and fled the premises. Smaug returned fifteen minutes later, a smug look in his eye and a contented sigh on his breath.

What Smaug did with his captive, Bilbo neither knew, nor wished to know. He only thanked his precious pet, and let him sleep in the master bedroom for just one night.


	6. Chapter 5

Smaug had been living in the hobbit hole under The Hill in the Shire for almost four years, and Bilbo was finally running into his big problem: the red-gold dragon had to slither on his belly just to move through the house, and he had to squeeze and fold himself in two if he wanted to go through a doorway. Now, if you or I were to look at the dragon, he would seem to us the size of a small horse, which is not that big at all! But, remember, it does not take much to be too big for a hobbit hole. When Smaug sneezed in his sleep and set the whole couch ablaze one night, it was the final push the hobbit needed.

"The Lonely Mountain."

"Beg pardon?" Bilbo was munching on a pastry in Erinda's kitchen, the two watching Smaug as he happily dozed, belly up, in the unusually warm November sunlight in her backyard.

"The Lonely Mountain." She repeated patiently. "Ever heard of it?"

"Well, yes, isn't that where one of the Dwarf Kings lives? And the town of Dale is right next to it. What about it?"

"You could always go there. Find a cave or a place to make a new, bigger hole. You'd have Dale and the Lake Town if you needed supplies, furniture, anything, and Smaug would have a whole mountain to roll around on." Erinda refilled both the tea cups, and arched an eyebrow in suggestion as she sipped at her cup.

"I don't know if taking a dragon that close to Erebor is a good idea. The dwarves are greedy people, and the King Under the Mountain surely has a lot of gold. Smaug has this... tendency towards treasure and he may find it too tempting. Especially when he's too big to easily be stopped."

"But you told me yourself that you'd broken him of his 'sticky fingers'?"

"It's true that he hasn't stolen anything in a few years, but he's a dragon. At the end of the day, I can only do so much." Bilbo took a sip of tea.

"You could always just kill him."

Bilbo choked on his sip of tea. "Excuse me?" He spluttered. The hobbit loved his beautiful companion too much to even think of laying a sword to him; he could see the betrayal and quiet resolve in the reptilian eyes and it made him sick to his stomach.

"Well, you could either move or kill him. Unless you have another solution."

"We're moving." Blibo put his cup down decidedly. "You have a rather rash way of making a point."

Erinda just shrugged, and yelled out the open window, "No, Smaug, no! Put that down!" The dragon was now awake and had a squirrel in his claws, about to eat it in one snap of his powerful jaws. Smaug looked from Erinda to Bilbo, then dropped the snack and lay down to sulk in the grass. The squirrel, suddenly very brave, chattered angrily at the dragon. Smaug only fixed it with a glare, then huffed out a small spark, which set the busy brown tail on fire and sent the pest scrambling into the bird bath.

Two days later, Bilbo had packed everything valuable to him (this included food) in a rucksack, and was ready to take off in the direction of the Lonely Mountain. By this point in his life as a dragon owner, he had stopped trying to deny he did not have adventures; the whole Shire knew he owned a dragon and would not walk anywhere near his hole for goodness sake! So, resolved to have one more blind adventure, he settled himself between Smaug's glittering wings, gripped tight, and watched the ground quickly dissolve from under him. At first, it was an unnerving experience, and Bilbo's stomach turned into a brilliant acrobat of nausea and uncertainty. Soon enough, though, the hobbit got used to the sensation of flying (Smaug knew not to show off or fly in any pattern that was not 'straight'), and he even began to enjoy himself.

A dragon and a hobbit could be seen sailing gracefully over the land for hours, casting an strange shadow upon the ground beneath them. Bilbo watched as Hobbiton and The Shire faded from view, and there was only a small tinge of regret fluttered through his heart as he left his home behind. Soon, the scenery shifted again and again as the lands underneath sped by at an incredible pace. Before Bilbo even knew it, the Misty Mountains were looming ahead, and he could faintly see a speck of activity in a valley, which he assumed to be Rivendell.

Night was fast approaching, and his proud pet was trying his best not to let his fatigue show, but Bilbo could tell the dragon could go no further. As they cleared the mountain range, Bilbo urged Smaug to land for the night. They touched down on the other side of the Misty Mountains, landing in a clearing of trees, and Bilbo had just enough light to rummage through the clearing for firewood, and through his backpack for dinner. Smaug turned the pile of twigs into warm flames, before quietly slinking off into the forest while Bilbo's back was turned.

The hobbit glanced around the clearing for his beloved dragon, but a sickening whimper and the crack of bones about a mile away answered the unspoken question. Sure enough, Smaug reentered the clearing a few minutes later with a good sized wolf clamped between his jaws. Bilbo frowned, but knew it was something he would, regrettably, have to get used to. At least the dragon had enough courtesy to turn his back to the hobbit and enjoy his meal.

The night grew later and, as the season was changing again, the air grew cooler. The poor little hobbit shivered on the hard ground as he attempted to find sleep, and upon seeing this, Smaug inched his way slowly across the grass and wrapped a leathery wing around his master. Bilbo's shivers slowly subsided and he fell into a peaceful sleep on the grass.

Early in the morning, while the moon was setting above the clearing, Bilbo awoke to a chilling air and noticed Smaug was not by his side. Used to his pet's usual night outings, the hobbit moved to go back to sleep, when he noticed a second, very queer thing: the clearing was slowly moving away as he sunk deeper in to the forest. The hobbit tried to sit up, but he found himself being carried off in the hungry grip of a group of goblins!


	7. Chapter 6

Bilbo Baggins only had a brief moment to ponder how, what had started out as, a simple life had led him to this point, before he began thrashing about, trying to escape. The goblins only gripped him tighter and began to sing a horrible tune:

_Hammer, holler! Blind and blur!_

_Crash, crush! But in no rush,_

_As down and down to our town_

_ You go, my lad!_

_Break, smash! Cut, slash!_

_Far and long! Fast and strong!_

_Round and round to the underground,_

_ Ho, ho! my lad!_

_Ring, chime! Rhythm, rhyme!_

_Beat and batter! Howl and Clatter!_

_Fire, hotter! Like a lamb to the slaughter,_

_While Goblins sneer and Goblins jeer,_

_Away, away, from light of day_

_ Below, my lad!_

Poor Bilbo heard these terrible words and began to tremble. If he could not find a way out of this situation before he was carried into the mountain, he would be second breakfast for sure! As the mountain loomed closer, and a door opened in the side of the rock to reveal a gaping mouth of darkness, Bilbo let out a terrified shriek that resembled the noise of his kettle back at his hobbit hole. There was a sudden rush of wind, summoned by the outcry, and the landscape was cast into a bright, red-gold glow.

The goblins had stopped their evil procession and were looking around, but none thought to survey the sky. Bilbo, however, could see the light perfectly. Smaug was angry, his scales glowing brighter than Bilbo had ever seen them, and the beat of his leathery wings was scattering leaves and bending the dead grass. The mighty dragon of only four years-old landed directly between the goblins and the entrance to the mountain, bristling his spine and growling in warning, but only once. He opened his jaws, and the goblins, recovering from shock, dropped the hobbit none to gently onto the grass and scrambled away into the forest as fast as their legs would carry them. A small blast of fire only caught one goblin, searing his backside as he clambered after his brethren.

As soon as the enemy was gone, it was as if someone had turned the lights off in the forest. Smaug's glow softened to it's normal hue, and the overgrown lizard licked a single, loving line up Bilbo's face, leaving behind disturbing amount of saliva and the stench of decay and blood. The dragon went for a second public display of affection, when Bilbo put out his hands and cried, "Ok, ok! That's enough!". Smaug settled for burrowing his large face in the hobbit's tiny chest and humming happily. "I love you, too, Smaug." Bilbo laughed, and scratched the soft spot on his pet's chin.

The dragon fell asleep again when they got back to the clearing, and Bilbo woke him only to start a fire, then he went back to snoring peacefully. Other than a few scratches from landing hard on some twigs, Bilbo was grateful that he had made it out of the mini peril relatively unscathed. As he nibbled on his rice cakes, he watched the sleeping dragon absently; a tendril of smoke emanated from each nostril and floated off past the treetops as the morning light spilled into the clearing. It sure wasn't Hobbiton, and it definitely wasn't the Shire, but maybe, Bilbo thought to himself, he could find a place out here to call home.

An hour later, the duo was packed up, rested up, and ready to pick up where they'd left off the night before. The day was as cold as the night before, and the rush of air from flying only added to the shivers that ran rampant through Bilbo's body. Smaug had to fly slower to try ease his master's chill, and the landscape below didn't whizz by nearly as fast as the day before. It only got colder and colder, and the sky began to darken and grey as the hours ticked past. By the time the rider and dragon reached the edge of Mirkwood, the air was unbearable, even for Smaug, and the grey clouds told a tale of a coming snow. "Let's get over Mirkwood, Smaug. We can find shelter on the other side until this storm blows over."

The leathery wings, though growing tired, continued with their steady flight, and Bilbo watched as the dark trees rushed by beneath him. They were almost to the other side of the expanse of forest, when a cloud of arrows sprung forth from under the trees. The attack caught Smaug off guard, and he clumsily swerved to avoid the flying weapons. Arrows sped past Bilbo's ears, missing him by only centimeters, as he encouraged and coaxed his dragon to get them out of their new predicament. They were almost completely over the forest when Smaug leaned too far to the left to avoid an arrow, and Bilbo went tumbling and rolling off his back and toward the treetops. Down through thin air he tumbled and spun, the wind roaring in his ears and a sad, sharp pain in his stomach. Just before he hit, however, strong reptilian claws grabbed him, and the dragon sped off as fast as his wings would carry him, still dodging the arrows of angry wood elves.

When they broke past the tree line, it was as if a rush of relief flew on the wind, and the duo were able to land on the other side. Smaug put Bilbo down gently, and landed carefully next to him, exhausted, but unharmed. The hobbit did not immediately acknowledge his friend, only laid down on the cold ground, a long arrow with a blue feathered end protruded obscenely from his stomach and was finding it harder to breathe. Smaug nuzzled closer, laying his head on his master's arm and whining softly; a noise Bilbo rarely heard from his proud pet. Crimson was slowly staining the ground underneath and the clouds above were ashen as they let their first few flakes fall. Bilbo put a hand on Smaug's nose and rubbed lightly. "It's ok, boy." He struggled for a breath. "I promise. It's all-" His hand went back to resting on the dirt.

The dragon looked to the sky, watching the storm move in past the forest. He whimpered again, trying to get his nose under Bilbo's hand again, urging him to get up and lead them to shelter for the night. But his master must have been too tired. He would just have to wait. Grey snow started to dance around them, much to Smaug's dismay, and the landscape was preparing itself for a furious storm. He nudged Bilbo again, whining even louder to get his attention, but to no avail. Finally, the young dragon resigned to curl up on the dead grass, as close to his master as he could get, and stretch a wing out to shelter the hobbit from the storm.

The snow continued to fall in thicker and thicker sheets, and the wind picked up speed, it's howling loud enough to cover the gentle pleas of a red-gold dragon and the silence that answered him. When morning came, as dismal and grey as the night before, the snow had settled heavily on the land. A white blanket of bleak and chill wrapped around trees and rocks, and buried two unlikely friends in shallow graves of cold and frost; immortalizing the loyalty of a red-gold dragon and laying an unexpected journey to rest.


End file.
